Sonnets!, =) Options

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Yeah .. did these for homework.

Shall I equate the worth thou gives in life?
For utmost poise lies in my paltry soul,
When facing fiends, conquering demons’ strife;
With overt envy num’rous men do mull,
For one cannot find such rare steadfast friend;
For decenníums, bonds have never set,
Nor reach to heights that heaven never wend,
But favor took thy life and mine, so met,
And tied a vine of adamantine thread;
When tribulations march toward our realms,
The tributaries trust and faith are fed,
A flood then over evil overwhelms.
      O when the sprites unleash their wickéd ploy,
      Do deem that strength will always flow from joy.

Shall I equate the worth thou gives in life?
For now stars fall and day is lacking sun;
My wretchéd soul has withered frail by strife,
For blade of foul has severed bonds undone;

Undone, by whom? A shadow wrought to taint
The amity that would have soared o’er skies?
Or was it spirit’s cunning vile feint,
That thirstéd for sad streams from cloudless eyes?

Though both canst reflect sadness and its pose,
Both canst not soar high or shed a tear;
The spirit and the shadow share their woes,
As their existence lean on my life’s steer.

A day without the sun casts no seen shadow,
And spirit, from night’s darkness, meets its ender;
There is no shadow without any glow,
Nor spirit when deprived of flames of stellar.

  The sun and stars, they hide behind sin’s veil,
  That now my spirit, shadow suffer pale.

Have I become immortal to all hate?
A shining steel of love, thou art mine blade,
Thy edge where thy good faith, so bright, brings fate,
And foldéd layers of deep hope crusade;

Against those daemons, claws of wrath outstretch’d,
Their teeth of spite seek minds that still be chaste,
And once they bite, that dooméd scar be etch’d,
Those souls become those daemons they have faced;

But lo, thou art no feeble quintessence,
With sword of unmatch’d power doth do reign,
As shadows fade at thy luminescence,
And daemons meet their death, a destin’d bane;

      Thou art my sword, my invuln’rable spear.
      The pure have joy, but dark find only fear.

Days pass, their hours laden full of quest;
My soul, an endless storm that seeks for thee;
This troubled mind, that cowers at such test,
For where can I take comfort; where to be?

But soft, what hope shines brightly in this search,
That hope which keeps a little bird at flight?
That joy in singing grand from its firm perch,
Its spirit raised and purged from its cruel plight?

It is not thee that keeps the wings up high,
But knowledge that thy existence belong,
The hidden star in such a voidlike nigh',
This empty dark, here shall I sing my song.

And seconds pass; the storm shall fade and cease,
The star comes out, and casts bright rays of peace.

You guys know about how sonnets work, right?